Chapter 116 THE BLACKOUTS
"Who's there?"
Silence.
He took a cautious step forward, then another. His gaze swept the corridor, searching for movement, for anything out of place.
Nothing.
He exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
“I must be imagining things.”
But even as he said it, unease settled quietly beneath his ribs.
\---
But miles away, at the kingdom’s border—
Another village burned.
No screams.
No warnings.
Just the quiet aftermath of something swift and merciless.
A man stood at the center of it.
Still.
Unmoving.
His blade, darkened with fresh blood, hung loosely at his side.
He looked down at one of the fallen, his expression unreadable. There was no rage in his eyes. No satisfaction.
Only calm.
Too calm.
He tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear.
Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
The same sharp features.
The same posture.
The same presence that commanded attention without effort.
Kaelion.
Or something that wore his face.
A faint smile touched his lips—but it carried no warmth.
“They will notice soon,” he said softly, his voice almost thoughtful.
A pause.
Then, quieter, “Good.”
He turned, stepping over the bodies he had drained the life force from as though they were nothing more than shadows on the ground, and began walking toward the kingdom.
Towards the city.
...
That night, sleep did not come easily.
Kaelion lay on his bed, staring into the dim light cast by the single lantern in his chamber. The palace was quieter at night, but not truly silent. There were always distant footsteps, murmured voices, the soft shift of guards changing watch.
It should have been comforting.
Instead, it made him feel watched.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the palace gate.
To the woman.
Her face had been lined with desperation, her voice sharp with something deeper than anger. She had called herself his mother.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
“That’s impossible,” he whispered.
And yet…
There had been something in her eyes.
Something that did not feel like a lie.
Kaelion turned onto his side, pulling the covers slightly closer. “I’ll find out,” he murmured to himself. “I just need time.”
“…time…?”
His eyes flew open.
The voice again.
Closer this time.
Not from the room.
From inside.
Kaelion sat up abruptly, his heart pounding.
“No,” he said under his breath. “No, this isn’t real.”
He pressed his hands against his temples, as if he could force the sound out.
But the whisper lingered, faint and stretched.
“…you don’t have time…”
“Stop it!” he snapped, louder than he intended.
The room fell still.
No voice followed.
Only his own breathing, uneven and loud in the quiet.
Kaelion swallowed hard, lowering his hands slowly.
“What is happening to me…?”
The blackouts grew worse.
Short at first. A few seconds, a minute at most.
Then longer.
There were moments he could not account for—lost pieces of time that left him disoriented and uneasy. He would find himself in places he did not remember walking to. His hands would be clenched, his pulse racing, as though he had just escaped something unseen.
Each time, he told himself it was exhaustion.
Stress.
Adjustment to the crowned Prince's life.
But deep down, he knew.
Something was wrong.
...
One afternoon, it happened in the training yard.
He had insisted on watching again, determined to focus, to ground himself in something real. The clash of swords, the rhythm of movement—it should have kept him present.
Instead, the world tilted.
The sound of steel warped into something distant, distorted.
And then—
“…wake up…”
The voice was sharper now.
Clearer.
Kaelion staggered.
A guard nearby noticed immediately. “Your Highness?”
Kaelion turned toward him, but his vision blurred. Faces melted into shadows.
“I...” he started.
Darkness took him again.
When he came to, he was surrounded.
Voices overlapped, concerned, urgent.
“…call the physician...”
Not long the physician came in.
But there were other murmurs.
“…he just collapsed...”
“…move back, give him air...”
Kaelion blinked up at them, confusion flooding his expression.
“I’m fine,” he said quickly, though his voice lacked strength.
The guards hesitated, uncertain.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the slight spin in his head. “I said I’m fine.”
There was a firmness in his tone now, something that made them step back.
But as they did, Kaelion caught his reflection in a polished piece of armor lying nearby.
For a brief moment—
His eyes didn’t look like his own.
They were darker.
Colder.
The image vanished as quickly as it appeared.
Kaelion froze.
“…no,” he whispered.
King Adrian rushed in with Maeron.
"Are you alright? What happened."
"He is stressed, your Majesty. Perhaps, the prince should be left alone to rest." The Physician adviced.
"Very well, then. Leave us."
After they had all left, he faced Kaelion.
"Have you been thinking too much?"
"Yes, but I'll be fine father, I promise."
Adrian looked at him in concern.
Then he left reluctantly.
—
That evening, he made a decision.
He could not ignore it anymore.
The blackouts. The voices. The strange feeling that something was… moving inside him.
But all these started few days after he had promised Athalia to see the king.
Could it have been the woman at the gate?
If there was even the slightest chance she was telling the truth and wanted to see the king for this reason.
"Maybe, she knew something and wanted to inform the king. Her only way must have been to use a fake name so the King could see her. That must be it." He thought
“I need answers,” he said quietly to himself.
From her.
Kaelion rose from his seat, his movements slower now, more deliberate.
But as he reached the door, the voice returned one last time.
Soft.
Almost gentle.
“…find her… before it finds you…”
His hand tightened on the door handle.
A chill ran through him.
But then he collapsed again.
Kaelion woke to voices.
Low.
Careful.
The kind people used when they thought he might still be unconscious.
“…he needs rest,” someone was saying. “Pushing him now would only worsen his condition.”
“And if the situation worsens outside?” another voice replied. “We cannot afford a weak heir at a time like this.”
Kaelion’s brows tightened slightly.
Weak.
The word lingered longer than it should.
He opened his eyes.
Light filtered softly through the tall curtains, pale and distant. The scent of herbs hung thick in the room. His body felt heavier than usual—not pain, not quite—but a strange, dull weight, like something unseen was pressing down on him.
“Your Highness?”
The voices stopped.
When his vision cleared, he saw them.
The King stood closest to his bedside, his expression lined with concern that he did not bother to hide. Around him were two ministers and the royal physician, all watching Kaelion as though waiting for proof that he was still… himself.
Kaelion pushed himself up slightly.
“I’m not dead,” he said, his voice rough but steady.
A faint breath of relief passed through the room.
“You collapsed yesterday." King Adrian said, his tone firm but not unkind. “Twice. What is wrong?.”